Merrick M (ex_merrickm47) wrote in roja_amour,
Merrick M

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For lycoristrijder

Some two weeks or so ago I was asked for Rogue/Poison Ivy. Today I finally got around to writing it. It's not much, and I don't think I like it all that much, but it's something. My first attempt at fanfic in quite some time. It's about 1600 words long.

        I get out of this, I’m becoming a fucking vegetarian. Gonna spend the rest of my cutting up plants, stuffing them in my mouth and crushing them between my teeth until there’s nothing left. I’m gonna trample fields of rose. I’m gonna become a lumberjack. That’ll teach the bitch.

        I’m chained by foliage to a wall in some kind of creepy greenhouse place, with evil prehensile vines holding me by the wrists and ankles. I’ve been here for I think three days now, and have stopped struggling. My captor said it was cute the way I tried to writhe out of the vines.

        She visits me a couple times a day, to talk to me. I have to admit, she’s a sight. She has the kind of body, the kind of hair I always longed for. She looks like I look in my dreams. She calls herself Ivy. Sometimes when she talks to me she runs her fingers through my hair, along my neck, across my cheek. See, that’s the thing. She can touch me.

        I ran away from home about two months ago after I almost killed my boyfriend Cody with a kiss. Since that moment I can’t touch a human being without drawing their life, their essence into me, like a vortex, like a vampire. My flesh is evil. Poison. But she can touch me. She says it’s because she’s not really human, not really even animal life anymore. She’s more of a plant.

        “You see, my dear,” she’s saying right now, “It is not coincidence that your touch is deadly to animals but not to plants. It is providence. You are destined to be a biological weapon in the war between the two great kingdoms of life. My weapon. A traitor, to be sure, for your blood is still red, but sometimes betrayal can be glorious. We’re not so different, Marie, you know. We’re both poison. My kiss pours venom into the enemy, your kiss draws life out of him. I, of course, have a little more control. I can be very poisonous indeed-” she leans forward towards me, “Or just a very little.” She kisses me on the mouth.

        It is sweet, at first. It’s been two months since I tasted a kiss. Then my stomach turns. There is no part of me that does not feel ill. I retch.. I choke.  I gasp. I writhe. Everything spins.

        It is later. I don’t know how much later. I am on my back and open my eyes to see hers, huge in front of me. She is straddling me. She licks her red, red lips. “You see my power. But you can be just as powerful as me. We can be queens, together. Warriors. Will you help me, my child? Will you let me teach how to fight them? How to hurt them?”

        Be brave, Rogue, be brave.

        “T-t-take your poison. . . a-and cover my ass with it. Bitch.”

        She clicks her tongue. She kisses me again. It is worse than the last time.

        I am huddling in a corner. My body is spasming. There are tiny puddles of vomit near my face. Green things are everywhere and I hate them. I hear her voice. “Sweet, sweet Marie. So much to learn. So much beauty to command. So much to become.” I feel her hands moving up and down my body. I feel her lips again.

         I am cradled in leaves, curled up in a fetal position, whimpering. I hear her breathing and glance up to see her standing over me, though my vision is blurry. The only color I see clearly is red. The red of her hair, the red of her lips. She speaks. “I am your master. I am your queen.”

        And I manage, weakly, “Yes.”

        “Would you be to others what I am now to you?”

        And I manage, weakly, “Yes.”

        It is three weeks later. I am dressed to kill (har, har) in skimpy black leather. I spent a while checking myself out of in the mirror before we left. I’ve spent most of the past couple months hating my body for what it did to my boyfriend. But looking at it today, I’ve got to say I’m liking it. I feel ready for what Ivy wants me to do. Prepared. Maybe even a little excited.

        It’s a test. A trial run. An initiation, of a sort. Target is a business man. Rich. Good-lucking. Cut down a lot of trees to get where he is. And, Ivy assured me, hurt plenty of actual people as well. A weakness for redheads. Ivy could have done this herself. But instead, she sent me.

        I pick him up just like Ivy trained me to. It’s easy. I go out for dinner with him, flirt just like Ivy showed me how. I know what he likes, what kinds of things to say, how to flaunt my body at him. I find myself imitating Ivy, mimicking her slow, slinky, confident movements. I can feel his desire, his eyes upon my skin. I had been preparing myself for a lifetime of covering every inch of that skin I could, keeping it away from every human touch. I’m glad my plans have changed.

        We kiss in the restaurant bathroom. He puts his hand on my butt and I lean forward and smooch him. What happened the last time I did this was a surprise. This time I’m ready for it. This time I revel in it. But I find I’m not quite prepared for the experience.

        The first thoughts that come through are thoughts about me. I see myself through his eyes, feel his lust for me. So much lust. So much heat. I feel his emotions as my own. I want to fuck me till I bleed. I feel his erection like I had a brand new cock. I almost put my hand to my crotch to touch it. Shivers cascade up and down my flesh as I devour his consciousness, drinking every pathetic, sweaty, horny bit of him right up. I see myself as if looking through the clearest mirror I’ve ever gazed into. So hot. So hot. Like Ivy is. I’m just like sexy Ivy is.

        I leave him there on the bathroom floor, probably in a coma like my old boyfriend is, and understanding for the first time how lucky they were to go out pressed against me, I saunter out to a car waiting for me with Ivy in the back seat. When I get in I surprise myself by lunging at her. I grope her, and she laughs and playfully knocks my hands away. “My dear,” she says, “You’re glowing.”

        This time it’s not a test. This time it’s the real thing. Half a dozen men with information that will help Ivy get the things that Ivy wants are staggering through the lair. Each one of them is drugged stupid and horny. None of them are in any condition to put any resistance. They’re all mine.

        I circle them at first, smirking at them and licking my lips and watching them drool. I move in. One by one, I take them down. Two with kisses, two with caresses, one with a handjob for variety, and for the last one I tell Ivy to watch this and make him kiss my ass until he passes out. Once I’m done I sit down and busily write down everything Ivy wants to know before it slips away. My writing is nearly illegible, because I’m shaking so badly, but I get everything onto paper. When Ivy walls over to look at what I’ve written I pounce on her and tackle her to the ground.

        I grab the back of her head and kiss her as hard as I can. She laughs and kisses me back. Her skin alone yields not to me. Her flesh alone is my equal. In front of the ruins of half a dozen pitiful motionless men, we roll on the ground tearing at each other’s clothes, licking the corners of one another’s lips. Her bright red hair is in my eyes as my jerking hands claw across her skin. Her nails draw blood. Mine draw chlorophyll. I have twenty stolen fantasies in my head about all the things the men had wanted to do to each of us as they waited for their end. Ivy and I, we act out them all.


        “You’ve been playing with the flowers quite a bit lately, love,” Ivy says to me. We’ve been lovers for two weeks now.

        “Yes. Yes I have.”

        “What’s on your mind?”

        “Cody. I was thinking of my boyfriend Cody.” It’s true. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Cody lately. “The way he looked at me right before he leaned forward to-”

        “He was just a boy, Marie. Just a boy. Weak. You were strong.”

        “I know. I know. Kiss me.”

        She does, softly, gently, and then her eyes go wide and she falls over. I’ve been playing with the flowers quite a bit indeed. Holding them for hours trying to figure out how to drain energy from plants like I drain from animals. Finally I figured it out. It’s not perfect, of course. For instance, I didn’t get much of her mind before she fell. All I did get, really, was that she wanted me more than any of the men I sucked dry ever did. I like that.

        A vegetarian. I’m gonna become a vegetarian and crush her pretty plants between my teeth forever and always. I think I’ll go looking for those X-Men I hear about on the news. I step out of the lair and into the daytime, take a deep breath, and I’m off.
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